Agot was having none of this.

“I bring tidings of great joy,” she announced, looking less like a miniature angel and more like a fairy, her hair blow-dried for once rather than full of knots or pulled back in fierce braids that made her eyes water. Its near-white blondness rippled behind her like a wave; it was truly beautiful.

Her costume, ludicrously over the top, made her walk self-consciously, and having been entirely convinced that she was the star of the show, it took a lot to get her to stand behind and not in front of Mary, an affronted Effie-Jane McGhie. She and Agot would end up as lifelong enemies, Effie-Jane decided, clutching the doll and trying to catch her grandfather’s eye round Agot’s enormously wide skirts, not realizing that Agot already hated her with a deep and abiding passion because she got to hold the doll. Agot had argued furiously that the angel should bring the baby Jesus doll “from God in heaven? You know? God? In the sky?” pushing even kind Lorna’s patience beyond endurance, and was therefore still making the most of her time in the spotlight.

Being at the front of the stage, she glanced at Conal Feachan, shepherding manfully still with a stout finger up his tiny nostril.

“I is Angel Gabriel. Stop picking your nose,” announced Agot, to gales of laughter from the crowd. Realizing this would be a terrible spur to Agot to show off even more, Flora nudged Innes crossly, only to see him laughing along with everyone else—his daughter could do absolutely no wrong in his opinion—and it was down to Lorna to give her “the look” that sent her to the back of the stage, finally, where she could join Ash, who, after last year’s debacle, when he’d played an innkeeper and Saif had gotten extremely upset about the wearing of tea towels, was safely playing a sheep. Ib, thankfully, was now too old to be in the nativity at all and was in the choir, mouthing the words so he didn’t have to sing along, as he was eleven now and this was patently baby stuff and absolutely ridiculous.

Saif was planning on missing it—everything was too near the knuckle this year; work was still work and he had more than enough on his plate—but at the last minute, Ash’s heartbreak that he might not be there had more than overcome his fundamental objections, and faced with an empty surgery—it was amazing just how much better everyone seemed to feel on the day of the MacKenzies’ famous nativity party—he had closed up early and slipped in at the back, desperate not to attract attention. He made sure, though, that Ash could see him. The little boy instantly waved frantically, and Lorna, fatally, turned round to see him, then cursed herself for doing so.

She couldn’t help remembering this time last year, when they had kissed for the first time. She knew he would be thinking about it too and swore to herself. She had thought things were complicated enough last year. This year it was a million times worse.